Prison-pietie, or, Meditations divine and moral digested into poetical heads, on mixt and various subjects : whereunto is added a panegyrick to the right reverend, and most nobly descended, Henry Lord Bishop of London / by Samuel Speed ...

¶ On Thoughts.

STill I am thinking thoughts that are not good, They are as common as my food, And do increase like Beans in mud, As thick as any Wood. Suppose I harbour some that do no ill, Nor yet no good, they hurt, when fill To little purpose, lying still, And such a hurt may kill. When I am praying to the Lord my God, They often on my Prayers have trod; And when I hope'd to scape the rod, My sins have still abode.

The reason sure why I am thus possest With such a bold unwelcome guest, (Unto my shame be it consest) It is because his Nest, With my consent before, was builded there, Who now lies lurking like a Bear, Watching my sinful Soul to tear, When once got in his snare. Lord, be my Surgeon, heal my wounded heart, And give me grace, that by that Art I may devise a Bolt or Dart To cause such thoughts depart. For with repentant tears it is con'est, Thou art a help to men opprest; When we are most of all distrest, Thou art our chiesest rest. With fervent Zeal unto thy aid we flee, Thou art our Rest; Truly our hope's in thee.